


Chasing the Fire

by GungnirStar



Series: The Dragon Prince [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Dragon Riders, Dragons, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, King Rhaegar Targaryen, Queen Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, Rhaella Targaryen Lives, Shireen Baratheon Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GungnirStar/pseuds/GungnirStar
Summary: Jaehaerys (Jon) Targaryen is adjusting to his new life as a beloved prince, his father and mother adore him and soon enough the rest of their family fall in love with those sad violet eyes.
Relationships: Bonifer Hasty/Rhaella Targaryen, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: The Dragon Prince [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032714
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55





	Chasing the Fire

Rhaegar and Elia took their turns with their one on one time with their son on the journey down the kingsroad, some days he would ride in Elia’s warm wheelhouse, listening to her talk, and telling her the few positive stories he had, and other days he would ride alongside Rhaegar. 

And, at night he would sit under the stars with Rhaegar and Aegon, listening to his father tell the stories of the constellations, or listen to the Targaryen men play songs for him. Rhaegar was skilled with the harp, and Aegon had learnt the Sitar from his cousins in Dorne. He found himself learning the songs of his family, the unsung tales, written by both his father and his brother. 

“You know, the kingsroad was created by the king you’re named for, Jaehaerys the first of his name, he was a dragonrider, and incredible leader. I hope that you, my son, will become as good a man as he.” Rhaegar commented one day, as they followed the long road through the realms towards the southern lands.

“Really? I didn’t know who designed the kingsroad. I suppose there’s a lot I don’t know…” Jon- Jaehaerys commented, looking down at the road itself. 

“Do you know about the Hour of the Wolf? It was your Stark ancestors who helped crown Aegon III in a brutal and swift uprising against the traitors who poisoned Aegon II. They came down on the kingsroad, and put an end to the madness. Winter came for house Targaryen, cooled the fire in our blood, and restored the kingdom.” His father, Rhaegar, never tired of asking what his son had learnt, or hadn’t learnt. 

“Yes, Cregan Stark dispensed justice, the justice of the wolf, on the traitors who refused to take the black. Less than 6 days, one skilled commander brought the end to the dance of the dragons at that time, the darkest hour of the war. He even fought the dragonknight once! And everyone knows his name, as he was the greatest knight to ever live.” Jaehaerys was educated on that piece of ancestry, at least. His fathers approving nod warmed his stomach, and he flowered under the long desired approval. 

The Targaryens had been riding for a week and a half now, and the youngest hadn’t given much thought to their surroundings, as the snows had started to fall around them, meaning that the landscape in the lands south of the North, where they would reach in a few scant days, were starting to look similar, and the landscape of the neck was yet to give way to the snowfall, thanks to the naturally damp environment. They’d passed the bones of Moat Cailin, and Jon found himself fascinated with the beauty of the abandoned keep. 

“Winter is coming…” He found himself commenting to Aegon as they sat beside the fire, cooking for Elia, for their mother. 

“So dire, taking up your mother’s words. We’re fire incarnate, we won’t be frozen so easily.” Aegon replied, before he broke up pieces of the rabbit’s meat for the stew. Oberyn muttered quietly about the cold, sat close enough to burn his shoes if he weren’t careful. “Uncle, mind your feet. Your words aren’t unburnt, and your toes will be all the worse for it if you do burn them. Now give me the pepper, you know my mother likes her food to have some taste.” 

Obligingly, Oberyn passed his nephew the peppercorns, before glancing back to where Ellaria sat with Elia inside the wheelhouse. It wasn’t an overly complex building, but he had designed it himself. It had space enough for Elia to sleep inside or recline, and insulation of an exotic wool in the walls, keeping his delicate sister warm. 

“You should extend the bed tonight, little dragon. I fear the cold will seep into her bones.” Oberyn suggested, before standing. “I will retrieve the bedding. Jae can keep watch over the food.” 

Aegon nodded, passing the spoon to his little brother with a wink. “You’ll be fine, just don’t let it burn. Fire cannot kill a dragon, but bad cooking can put him with his head in a bucket for days.” 

The youngest Targaryen laughed at that. He liked the jokes that Aegon made, the way he was so at ease with everything. He was much like his uncle in that manner, but the seed was strong in other ways, and he was known for his scorching passion, his thrill seeking. He was every bit the daring Targaryen prince that Sansa had longed for in her youth. Jon just nodded, and diligently maintained the food. 

His father was off in the woods, looking for inspiration, apparently. 

One of the guards accompanying the royal wheelhouse was berating someone, and in the gloom Jaehaerys couldn’t quite see who. Aegon returned just as he stood, and he gestured for his brother to stay with the food. The older prince frowned, but let his little brother do as he pleased. 

The guard had a crannogman by the collar, shaking him. 

“Trying to steal, are you?” He sneered, the smaller figure wrestling against his grip. 

“Let go of me, you worm!” Hissed the smaller of the two, and Jaehaerys mentally amended his initial judgement, crannogwoman, not crannogman. 

“Unhand her, ser.” He said, stepping to place a hand on the crannogwoman’s shoulder. “What is the meaning of this?”

“She was trying to steal from us! I saw her opening her satchel, something going into it.” The guard insisted, but let go, knowing that it wouldn’t be wise to quarrel with his new prince. 

“I wasn’t stealing anything! I’m bringing something to the king, you fat, uppity toad!” The girl snapped, retrieving her fallen spear. 

“Well, may I take the gift on my fathers behalf? He’s looking for something in the swamp.” Jaehaerys offered, before dismissing the guard with a wave of his hand. This level of power over someone else was somewhat scary, but he’d seen Lady Stark dismiss plenty of commonfolk and guards in the same manner, so surely it was normal in the south. 

“And who are you?” The girl asked, raising a brow. “You look and sound like a northman.” 

“Jaehaerys Targaryen, formerly known as Jon Snow, bastard of winterfell, second legitimate son of King Rhaegar.” He’d had to practice this mentally, for exactly such a situation. 

“You? My father helped bring you north, and now you’re going south?” The girl scoffed. “I’m Meera Reed, my father Howland is a close friend of Lord Eddard Stark.” 

“I’m going south. My family want me with them, and I want to be with them.” Jaehaerys replied with a solemn nod. “But it is an honour to meet you, Lady Reed. Forgive that idiot guard.” 

“Well...You talk the part of a prince, I suppose. I’ll give you the gifts then. Your uncle gave them to my father, as a safekeeping. They’ve been waiting for you, I think. My brother saw that the royal wheelhouse would come by today, and we moved our keep so we could be closer at the right time, which means you needed them.” Meera explained, before she pulled two dragons eggs from her satchel. One, a deep violet, the other silver. “Apparently they were laid by the dragon Silverwing when the good queen Alysanne visited the wall.” 

Jaehaerys took them carefully, feeling the warmth in his hands. They should have been ice cold, he was sure. 

“Thank you. I will let my father know of your invaluable gift.” He bowed, before looking up, and the girl was gone. He held the two dragon eggs in his hands, before turning back to the fire. His father stood, watching him with interest alight in his eyes. 

“The lord of the crannogmen sends us his welcome and regards...and these.” Jaehaerys said, as way of explanation, holding one egg in each hand. His father’s eyes went wide, and he saw Aegon’s do the same. “Laid by Silverwing, apparently…” 

“We...we will see if they’ll hatch. There’s no guarantees though, not after the last dragon…” Rhaegar murmured. “One for you both. If you have no luck after a year, we can try with Dany and Nee.” 

The boys nodded, and Aegon reached out hesitantly for the violet egg. Jaehaerys held it out to him, offering a small smile. “Take it. I know you’ll do your best. It’s warm. Do you feel it?” He asked Aegon, who shook his head. 

“No...it feels cold, to me.” 

It was like an icy bucket was dropped over them both at that, and instead, Rhaegar clapped his hands together.

“Let us eat, shall we? In the wheelhouse, tonight. I’ll be sleeping in there, with your mother. I think she’s feeling the cold, so we ought to all join her. Keep her warm.” Their father suggested. 

Jaehaerys felt his cheeks redden at that.

“In her bed? Is that allowed?” He asked softly, still unused to a family dynamic. 

“Yes, of course it’s allowed. Sometimes she still sleeps in the same bed as her brother. Physical intimacy isn’t inherently inappropriate.” Rhaegar replied, chuckling. “Nee often sleeps in the same bed as her cousins, too.” 

“Oh.” Was all the dark haired prince could reply, embarrassed, a small lump in his throat. 

“It’s okay. We understand it’s new for you, in the north everyone is so reserved!” Aegon quickly cut in, patting his shoulder. 

Jon wishes it were that, and not the fact he had never had anyone care for him like a family would. Eddard and his children were all close, the only person who had ever slept in his bed with him had been Arya, after her night terrors as a small child. She preferred him, because he understood. She often suggested she could also be a bastard, since she wasn’t like prissy Sansa, or noble Robb. Jae remembered the day of her birth though, so he couldn’t lie to her. 

He’d been struck across the cheek by Lady Stark when she’d discovered Arya curled in his bed, her head tucked under his chin. For a week, he’d been told to stay away from the rest of the family, until the Lady of Winterfell’s temper had cooled. 

“Arya used to sleep in my bed. But her mother forbade her, she said it was wrong for her to seek me out.” 

“It’s not wrong. She was your little sister, you love her like any sibling.” Aegon replied, waving his hand. “We all started sharing mother’s bed as a family after the sack of kings-” He started, before feeling his father’s hand placed on his shoulder. “Father doesn’t like me talking about it, because of what happened, but it’s true. After the mountain tried to kill me, and mother gouged his eyes out, we all shared the bed. We didn’t want to be too far apart. Dany slept in the bed too, after she came to kings landing.” 

Jaehaerys’ face was conflicted for a moment, looking up at his father. “I...I understand. I guess it’s hard to think about everything that happened. You almost lost your wife.”

“Not just me. We both lost a wife, and a mother too. If I’d died saving my children, then I would have been able to greet Lyanna with wide arms.” Elia’s voice cut through the cold air, and they all jumped, Jaehaerys nearly dropping his egg into the fire. “I lost the woman I loved, and the child I helped her quicken with. Rhaegar and I...We were broken by her loss, we loved her fiercely, as a dragon loves anything with a fierce and deep love. She offered to kill Aerys himself, for how he spoke of Rhaenys. She was a protective mother, and she would have killed for any of you children.” Her voice carried through the air, and Jaehaerys felt the lump grow in his throat once more. “Come, let us eat and rest. The cold is biting too hard for my liking.”

The meal itself was quiet, the family letting the newest addition have his quiet. Rhaegar, too, had his quiet moments, but apparently that had been his way, all his life. 

Once they were ready to rest, the door were closed, blankets covering the entrances, and windows to the wheelhouse, and Elia climbed into the soft, luxurious bedding. She patted the furs next to her, and Jaehaerys carefully lay down facing her, while Aegon lay behind her. He looked up, questioning where his father would lay, before he felt the thick padded blanket laid over them, and his father climbing in the bed behind him. 

He clutched his dragon egg to his chest, hoping the shared warmth would reach deep inside the hard stone. Elia’s hand settled on his cheek, stroking with her cold fingers. He offered her a small smile, the single candle in its lantern casting a dim orange over the room. 

“Just like your father.” She murmured, leaning to kiss his forehead before curling up under the blankets. Aegon slept back to back with her, while his father lay on his back. 

He could be comfortable with this, the way they rained love on him like it was a never ending downpour.

Maybe it was. 

Come morning, Aegon and his father had left, and he found himself with Elia’s arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek resting against his back. He smiled, before carefully extracting himself. She awoke as he moved, and carefully rubbed the sleep from her eyes. 

“Will you ride in here with me today? I do not think my health will allow me much movement today. Tyene wanted me to show her how to embroider mirrors into fabric, and I want to spend more time with you before we return home and the girls monopolise your time.” Elia explained, reaching up to smooth her fingers through his curled hair. “Oh, nobody showed you how to take proper care of your hair, my poor son.” She sighed, shaking her head. 

“Go, get washed and dressed, eat, and then come back to me.” 

“Yes Elia.” He nodded, bowing his head at her command.

“Please. Call me mother, if you could bare it?” She asked in a soft tone, and he met her eyes as tears sprung to them unbidden once more.

“I...I would like that. Having a mother.” He admitted. “I’ve never had one, but I always imagined she would appear one day, and tell me she loved me, and had her reasons for letting Lord Stark take me away from her.” 

“My son, if I had known you existed I’d have sent my brother to retrieve you at spearpoint, if he had to. I’ve become quite the dragon in my years of marriage to your father, and I would guard you as fiercely as any mother dragon with her hatchling. Oh, you wait until Rhaella sees you…” 

“Rhaella? She’s my...grandmother?” Jaehaerys asked softly, and Eli- his mother, he mentally corrected, nodded. 

“She is, and she adores every one of her grandchildren. And little Dany. But go, we can talk more once you’re truly awake.” 

The dragon egg was kept close to his chest as he freshened up for the day, being given another spare set of Aegon’s clothes, their breakfast eaten hurriedly. Rhaegar had gone on ahead early, and Aegon soon after with most of his cousins. Tyene and Sphinx stayed with the wheelhouse though, happy to sit and listen to Elia’s tales. 

Once he returned to the wheelhouse, the convoy set off once more, and his mother insisted on doing something about his hair. 

“Tyene, my little sparrow, please bring me the oil that smells of beach milk. And some beads.” She instructed, the blonde cousin nodding and digging around for the right oil, and ruby beads. 

“Here, your grace.” 

“Thank you, sweetling. Now, Jaehaerys, having hair this curly doesn’t require combing all that often, or sometimes ever. You inherited it from your father, while Aegon has my straight hair. Not that it matters, as you will find your hair stays nicer when you apply oil to it, protects it from the elements, and makes it softer.” She explained, before instructing him to sit between her knees. He carefully sat with a cushion on the floor, dragon egg in his hands as Elia set to work with his hair. With careful fingers, she began to massage his scalp, working her fingers through the tangles in his hair from prior attempts at brushing. Slowly, his hair fell back into its natural curls, the thick black waves framing his face. 

“You look like a stony Dornish beauty, such a shame you’re not from Dorne.” Tyene sighed fondly, reaching out to stroke the ridge of his nose. “You’d be the mostly sought after boy in all the kingdom.”

“Tyene, do not tease your cousin, he’s a northern beauty, with fire in his heart.” Elia replied, and Jaehaerys could hear the smile in her voice. He grinned, feeling her carefully braiding his hair, sliding the ruby beads in, before tying a small northern wolf’s knot at the back of his head. 

“How do you know how to tie a wolf’s knot?” He asked her, once he was allowed to look at his hair in her mirror, and feel the beads in his thick hair. 

“Your mother taught me, one night before we went to bed. She favoured the style, and loved letting me do her hair. She wasn’t girly at all, much like little Arya, so you can imagine how she reacted to doing her own hair.” His mother explained, and Jaehaerys laughed, missing Arya, not for the first time. 

“Sansa was the girly one. She loved having her hair done in southron styles, always begging her mother to let her visit one of the other great houses… Please don’t let her marry Aegon.” Jaehaerys spoke up, after having the realisation she would do her best to try and convince her mother to let her marry into the royal family. 

His mother laughed, as did Tyene. 

“No, she will be married to the Tyrell’s eldest boy. It’ll suitable chasten Lady Stark, and remind her that she is from a family of traitors. No traitor can marry in this deep.” She reassured him.

“My father is terribly fond of Willas, so he knows the eldest boy has sense about him. He’s head of their house, since the fat flower was killed a few years after the rebellion, thinking he could take on the greyjoys himself, fool.” Tyene spoke up now, her stitches neat as she worked on a sample piece of stitched mirror to fabric. 

“Such a pity.” His mother replied in a dry tone, completely unrepentant. “Sansa should be happy to marry a noble lord all the same.”

“Now, how long have you known you didn’t like women?” Elia asked finally, a coy smile curling her lips. 

He spluttered, trying to find the right words to reply, his face red.

“Sweetling, it doesn’t matter to me if you like women or not. We don’t need you to marry for heirs, you could become a kingsguard or swear yourself to never take a wife in other ways.” She reassured him, patting his shoulder. 

“I didn’t- How could you tell?” He asked, hands clutching at the egg. 

“Well, I’d have to be blind. You’re gentle, and kind, and you like staring at other young men’s behinds. And their lips. You treat women and girls much differently to a man who sees us as sexual partners.” 

“I only like women! Nobody ever expects the sweet blonde snake.” Tyene piped up, her blonde halo of hair bouncing with the carriage. “I just think women are so pretty. And soft. I want to run away with the little sister of Willas. Her kisses taste of strawberries.” 

His mother laughed, shaking her head. “Sevens weep, the daughter of the septa only liking women. I shouldn’t be surprised. In Dorne we care not for such trivial matters as caring for who you like to sleep with. Your mother was surprised when I pulled her into my tent and did my best to seduce her, little dragon.” 

He stayed quiet, processing the information. And then, he smiled. 

“I’m glad you don’t mind, then. I don’t want to hide who I am.” 

“I never want you to hide anything from me, and in return I will not hide it from you.” His mother replied, before offering her hand. “Deal, little prince?”

“Deal, Eli- mother. Can you tell me about Rhaella, and Dany, and Rhaenys?” He asked, ignoring Tyene’s giggles. 

“Well, Dany was in King’s landing with us for quite some time, but after her brother got himself in a spot of hot water, she returned to Dragonstone. She keeps one of her cousin’s children as a ward, too. Little Shireen Baratheon is a fine child, and Daenerys has such a kind heart. The child was afflicted with greyscale, someone tried to kill her to slight the surviving Baratheon line. Of course, our stern cousin Stannis managed to have her saved by some inventive medicine, all the way from Braavos, and she was sent to stay with her father’s cousin as a safeguarding measure. Nobody would attack a little girl that’s the ward of the dragon, after all. She has some sensitivities about her face, thinking she will never be beautiful. Indeed, that may be true, but my sweet sister-in-law has convinced her it’s to do with her Targaryen ancestry, and that it proves she’s a dragon. And from how she craves the heat, she may indeed have a spark of the dragon in her.” 

Jaehaerys liked the sound of such an arrangement. Little girls often needed a friend to help them come out of their shell, and young women liked a child to help shape into a better person. 

“I heard that Shireen has been finding the long dead dragons of Dragonstone, the ones that were killed by other dragons, like how Sunfyre killed Grey Ghost, and how The Cannibal vanished one day, and Sheepstealer ran away with Nettles to the mountains and they died together, and all the little dragons that died accidentally, and the dragon Morning died of a broken heart after her rider died, and she’s been reading to their stone bodies.” Tyene interjected, causing him to tilt his head. 

“How did you learn about that? I never heard it mentioned in Winterfell.”

“Sphinx read about it in Oldtown, after forging a few maesters links. When a dragon dies, but isn’t truly dead, it turns to stone, hoping one day it’ll wake up again. Some of the dragons on Dragonstone fell into this stasis after the Dance of Dragons, so maybe they’ll awaken one day.” Tyene placed her stitching down to relay this tale, her smile sweet and light, despite the dangerous undertone.

“Yes, that’s true. Dany has been looking for eggs around these dragons, since Shireen is expertly skilled at locating them. The Cannibal was an enormous antagonistic beast, one of the oldest ever. He was never ridden, according to sources. His body lies next to a clutch of dragon eggs, he was in the process of eating, before he died. Dany took the three eggs from beside his body, the rest were down his throat.” 

The idea of such a monstrous dragon made Jaehaerys shudder. How savage must a creature be to eat its own kind like that? 

“I am glad he’s dead, or in a living death.” The young prince muttered, shaking his head. 

“Tell me, cousin, why did your cousins all have those wolves and you didn’t?” Tyene asked, leaning her elbow on the small table. 

“My fa- Lord Stark found a dead direwolf and her five pups. One for Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. She’d died birthing them.” He explained, before shrugging. “I suppose I was never meant to have one, since I’m not a Stark. I have a dragon egg now, hopefully it’ll hatch.” 

“Such a thing hasn’t happened in centuries now, don’t be silly.” Tyene remarked, rolling her eyes at him. 

“Well, we’re living in unusual times. A Martell bastard and a Tyrell Lady falling in lust certainly takes some magic to do.” His mother quipped, making Jaehaerys snort, ducking his head to avoid Tyene’s glare. 

“If there’s magic returning to the world, then I’m sure it’s a good sign.” Jaehaerys commented. 

“Ah, and there you sound like your father once more. Him and his signs.” His mother chuckled, stroking his hair again. 

“What else do I do that he does? Or that my mother did?” He asked, leaning into her hand slightly. 

“Well you lean into my touch, just like your mama did, and you eat like you won’t eat again for a while, like both of them, like a travelling warrior. You shake your head to flick your hair back just like your father does, but you chew at your inner cheeks like she did when she was thinking. And, of course, most importantly, you observe everything, just like me. We may not share a blood, Jaehaerys Targaryen, but we share a spirit. You and my sweet Rhaenys have much in common, and it pleases me, knowing you share the same fiery sunlight in your hearts, though the north has tried its best to stamp it out with coldness.” 

  
  


The rest of their journey down the kingsroad was uneventful, and it was only when they passed Harrenhal that anything of note happened. First, a letter arrived on raven, and his father’s face twisted in panic, before writing a second one, and then he entered the wheelhouse, gesturing for his sons to join him. Elia’s face was concerned at the unusual reaction of her husband.

“What is the matter, my ruby?” She asked, her voice soft. 

“Shireen woke the dragons from stone. Grey Ghost and the Cannibal. And the Cannibal tried to burn Dany alive as she pulled Shireen away from the beast, but it hatched her three eggs. Now Shireen has bonded with the Cannibal, and fed her jester to it. A girl of nine, has tamed the oldest, and most brutal dragon known to us all. I will go and claim Grey Ghost, so we may have a dragon to stand against him, in case of any problems. Aegon, Jaehaerys, between you, you must decide who will go to the capital and meet with Rhaenys, and who will come with me to witness the dragons. 

“I’ll stay here.”

“Jae should go.” 

The princes spoke at the first time, heads whipping to look at one another. 

“I’m the heir, I should stay in the capital in case of the worst cast scenario. Jae’s the better swordsman too, he can help.” Aegon reasoned. 

“But I...I couldn’t, I’m not important enough to witness such an event.” Jaehaerys replied, voice faltering. The three all looked at him with pity, or empathy, he wasn’t sure. 

“Jaehaerys, I want you to come with me. Aegon is right. He should stay and protect Elia, and you come with me to protect the girls.”

  
  
  


Shireen Baratheon was a little wisp of a girl upon first impressions. Her black hair blended into the coal black body of the great beast, the Cannibal. Jaehaerys was horrified at the enormity of the beast, unable to imagine that Balerion the Black Dread had been even larger. But the little girl sat on his snout, stroking the scales with her cheek pressed to the skin. 

“I begged her not to get close, but she said she’d heard it crying in its stone body, and she sang to it. And it awoke, and now? She wants to sleep under its wing every single night, or have its head resting in her chambers, at the very least. I don’t know what to do, Rhaegar.” Daenerys murmured, her three small dragons curled around her body like jewellery. Two on her shoulders, and one around her throat. Her once long, beautiful hair had been burnt away now only a few inches of hair on her head, but she didn’t seem to be too upset by it at all. 

“And what of Grey Ghost?” The king asked her, looking to the skies. 

“It rests beside the water, you won’t see it if the tide rolls in on the Dragonmont.” She explained. “But it is still barely healed from its wounds. I wouldn’t try to ride it, or even bond with it. Leave it, my brother, it had a sad, lonely life before returning to the stone. Let it have it’s peace” 

Jaehaerys hadn’t even been introduced to his aunt yet, but her compassion was moving. His father shook his head though, and simply removed his sword and armour. 

“Jae, please look after these. I’ll be back by nightfall.” He murmured, approaching little Shireen and her mount, while his son scrambled to pick up his discarded equipment. 

He couldn’t hear the conversation between his father and his father’s little cousin, but he found himself now under the scrutiny of his aunt’s lilac eyes. He shifted nervously, bowing to her.

“Your highness.” He murmured in greeting. 

“Who are you? A northman? A northern Velaryon perhaps?” She asked, frowning slightly. 

“Jo- Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys Targaryen.” He replied, embarrassment flushing his cheeks at almost slipping up. 

“I don’t know of any Jaehaerys Targaryen. You’d have to be-” He watched as her eyes widened with acknowledgement, before the ground almost shook as a roar filled the air, and the beat of giant, ancient wings filled the air. The three young dragons yowled, getting closer to their mother.

“My mother was Lyanna.” He whispered, watching his father and Shireen fly away from the island, over the sea. 

“Lyanna...And my uncle? Well...You are no Visenya, I will tell you that much.” She teased, before looking back to the disappearing form of the Cannibal. 

“I was so scared, when that creature approached Shireen. I reacted instinctively, I didn’t even drop the eggs, I just jumped and pushed her as hard as I could as the beast opened its mouth. It breathed the fire over me, and all I could feel was icy cold.” Dany stepped closer to him. “The eggs had been warm until then, and then when the fire was gone, they had hatched, and covered me. Then, sweet little Shireen approached that mountain, and said to it ‘It’s okay, you know me and I know you. You’re not supposed to be hurt, and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. And you won’t let him hurt me like his songs, will you?’ And then, the beast swallowed her fool jester whole. I could see it in her eyes, the unadulterated joy. I don’t know what she meant...It was only later, when she sat with the beast’s head in her balcony that she told me the fool had sung of violence, and murder, and death, and the promise it would come to her. That sweet, silly girl named that beast Abalone, because she thinks it shines like the shells from the sea.” Daenerys’ retelling was chilling, and he was glad that he hadn’t seen it himself. For such a small girl to be so fierce and brave made him long to see little Arya once more. 

“And what of your dragons? What are their names?” He asked softly, looking at the three little things.

“Viscerion, Rhaelon, and Darkfyre.” She stated simply. “Viscerion for my brother so it may be everything he was not, Rhaelon for my mother Rhaella so it may be her companion and soothe the pains of her earlier life, and Darkfyre because some people believe this clutch had been laid by Sunfyre after mating with the Cannibal...or Abalone, as he is now called. I am hoping that Rhaenys will bond with Viscerion, but perhaps he will bond with you or Aegon.” 

“I have an egg.” He blurted, before carefully pulling it from his bag. The egg was still warm to his touch, and the three young dragons all looked with great interest. “Apparently it was laid by Silverwing.” The two Targaryens stood on the black sand, and looked at the silver egg, Jae’s fingers slowly tracing the outside of it, noticing tiny red flecks underneath for the first time. 

“It’s beautiful...May I touch it?” Dany asked, and he nodded, holding out the egg to her. She brushed a finger over it, tilting her head. 

“I can feel some warmth to it, but it’s not for me. It must be yours, if you can feel its warmth.” She looked up at him, inspecting his face closely. They were of the same age, and he offered her a soft smile. 

“Thank you. For talking with me. You’re different to Aegon. He’s nice, but…”

“But he’s Aegon. He’s bold, and charming, because he’s been a crown prince all his life. He doesn’t know how it feels to be belittled and bullied.” She finished for him, before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Do not fear, I understand. Viserys was cruel, and hateful. He belittled me, called me names and slapped me for speaking against him. When mother discovered this all, she raged and spat fire, almost. He had an unfortunate fall the next day, and there is no longer the middle child.” 

Jae nodded, his face solemn. 

“Come, you should meet my mother, no doubt she is watching us from inside the keep.” 

Rhaella was a hard, stone faced beauty. She had been treated cruelly her whole life, until the death of her husband at the hands of Jaime Lannister, and she lived in calm solitude with her second husband, Ser Bonifer Hasty. He had been a pious man, and even now together they prayed, finding a balm for their hurts in the seven. Together they aged, and lived in peace. The man stood at her shoulder when she received Jae in her Solar, letting his love assess the newcomer. 

“Oh! Dear-heart, come closer. It is not often an old woman becomes a grandmother thrice over!” She held her hand out to him, and Jaehaerys stepped closer. He could see that she was aged, her silver hair fine, her face wrinkled and soft with time, but her eyes were sharp, and she grasped his face in her hands, turning them this way and that. 

“Oh, you are both dragon and wolf, little one. I see it clear as day, you have my eyes, and my mouth, but that dark hair is all Stark. To think my boy begot another son with the Stark girl, when he wanted a Visenya. Never have it said that the gods haven’t humour!” The Queen mother chuckled, before pulling him into a tight embrace, her fingers digging into the young prince’s shoulders. “And what are you called, sweetling?” She asked, eyes tracing the ridge of his brow, curve of his nose, shape of his jaw, committing every feature to memory. 

“I was raised in the north as Jon Snow, but my father wishes me to be named Jaehaerys from now on.” 

“Jaehaerys. A strong name, for the first of his name, not second, I hope.” Rhaella snorted, and her previously silent companion chuckled, before placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“The princess has a quick and sharp tongue, you will do well to remember that, or else she will cut you deeper than any sword, my Lord.” Her companion added, and the former Queen looked up at her with a small smile. 

“This is my beloved, Bonifer Hasty. He and I were once young, sweet lovers, but I had to be married to my brother to ensure stability, because the prince that was promised will be born.” Her voice turned bitter, but the old man gently cupped the back of her head.

“Do not worry, my queen, for you now can live the life you and I desired. Being a knight or no, has no matter to us now. I am your sword and your shield, and the father your daughter deserves.” Bonifer murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. It was warming, to see such a love between two people that were clearly meant to be. 

“Now, Dany, may I have my little Rhaelon?” She asked, and her daughter held out her arm, the tiny dragon running down to leap onto the Queen mother. “I hope to live long enough to see him claimed by a real rider. Until then, I simply wish to love the sweet little creature, encourage its nature. Once that black one is large enough to ride, I am certain that Dany will have her hands full.” Rhaella explained. 

“Aye, and when you are annoyed at me, you will have it guard your pillow so I may not share the bed with you.” Bonifer chuckled, sitting down beside his wife on her recliner. The small dragon crawled closer to him, chirping as it pushed against his hand. He laughed, tickling its chin. 

“To think these had been waiting for the little Baratheon girl to bring them all back. It’s a wonder, isn’t it?” Bonifer remarked, looking to Jae and Dany, both nodding with a little smile. 

“Sit, let us eat while we wait for my gallant son to return from his adventure.” 

As she spoke, the sound of heavy wingbeats filled the air, and a deep roar. Bonifer ran to the doors of Rhaella’s solar as the great black beast landed, Shireen carefully climbing off of its head to kiss the tip of its snout. 

“Hello Auntie! My Lord uncle!” Shireen called happily, her grayscaled cheek twisting as she smiled brightly. Rhaella smiled, patting her knee for the girl to sit with her and the small dragon.

“Sweetling, come and sit, we were about to eat.” Rhaella called, smiling as the child bounced over and sat beside her. The little Rhaelor preened as she spoke in a little hissing noise to it. Jaehaerys watched as Daenerys stiffened, her eyes widening by a fraction. Bonifer broke the tension by placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Is that how dragons speak, little doe?” He asked her kindly, getting a nod from the girl. 

“Yes! Abalone taught me while he was sleeping.” She replied, and her beast of a dragon rumbled in response. 

“Could you tell me how you say ‘wake up’ in dragon?” Jaehaerys asked her, and the little girl looked over to her beast of a dragon, her little face screwing up as she thought. She had to be of age with Arya, their dark hair so similar but so different in that moment. 

“Abalone says I can’t tell you, because your dragon isn’t ready to wake up yet.” Shireen told him earnestly, before she clasped her hands in her lap. 

His aunt shot him a strange look, and Bonifer simply raised a brow. Who were they to argue with a girl who  _ literally _ woke the dragons up? 

  
  


True to his word, the king returned before the sun set, riding on the back of the grey dragon, despite its slower pace, it landed on the keep and let out a quiet dragonsong, curling to sleep on one of the turrets. 

“Uncle Rhaegar tamed her by singing to her! She was so shy, and afraid, so I flew away with Abalone, and then he sang to her and she came closer, in love with his voice. I bet even the bones of the dragons in the sea could hear his voice and loved it.” Shireen explained to Daenerys as the five of them peered at the white-grey beast. 

“Ah, his voice is the most beautiful thing. Perhaps this wounded old dragon will be good for him.” Rhaella murmured, stroking her pale fingers through the girl’s dark hair. Abalone let out a low growl, and Shireen growled back. 

“Abalone, if you hurt Grey Ghost I will make sure you never get to have something delicious, like deer or cow.” She threatened, the dragon simply huffing, smoke curling from its nose despite being thoroughly chastened. 

After a few minutes, Rhaegar entered, looking no worse for wear. 

“Mother, Ser Bonifer, sister.” He greeted with a bow. “Jaehaerys, Lady Shireen.” 

The assorted replies came, with Shireen demonstrating her best practiced curtsey. 

“We shall spend the night and return to King’s landing in the morning. Jaehaerys, would you care to ride with me?” His father asked, and he nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement. Riding a dragon of his own? Not for a while yet, but riding with his father, sharing the experience? Exhilarating. 

“Yes. I would like that. I would love that.” This was something special, just to him. He would be the second person to ever ride on the back of the famous feral dragon. The Starks wouldn’t ever imagine such a thing, and Aegon wouldn’t get to do that. He’d have to wait. 

“I will have Aegon come to visit soon, so you may offer him a dragon, Daenerys.” He continued, looking to his younger sister. “And perhaps you two may socialise more, since he’s not spent nearly enough time on this island, despite it being his legal home.”

Rhaella cocked a brow, but nodded her agreement. 

  
  


When Jaehaerys slept that night, he dreamt of snow. 

In the morning, Rhaella sought him out, before the journey back to King’s landing. 

“You haven’t your own clothing, sweetling. I have clothes from when your father was your age, before he grew to his full size, so I will have them sent to the red keep, that way you can have enough shirts that you needn’t want for more just yet. And enough spare tunics that you can borrow until you can pick your own wardrobe.” She informed him, and he nodded. 

“Thank you. I haven’t all that many clothes of my own, I must admit. In Winterfell I had enough clothing to last me a week, and as I got older I was expected to wash them myself as well as my other duties. Less of a strain on the household, according to Lady Stark. Sometimes Robb would give me a second hand shirt, but otherwise…” 

“That is your old life. You have us now, and we have many years of pampering to cover you with.” She chuckled, running her hand through his hair. “Come, I have a small gift for you. It was handed down through our family’s history, a gift for the second son of the king.” 

He obligingly offered her his arm, and the older Targaryen guided him into her bedroom. It was far grander than anything he was used to, and he felt more than a little out of place. 

“Sit.” She instructed, before going to an ornate chest, silverleaf and goldleaf dragons painted on each side. As instructed, he sat and waited. After a few moments the produced a delicate coronet, wrought with dragonglass and silver. She placed it gently on his head, and smiled.

“It fits you perfectly, my little dragon. And it suits you greatly. Wear this in court, and nobody will be able to question your identity. Viserys used to wear this, but the poor boy had an  _ unfortunate _ accident. And now it’ll be yours, as it has been the coronet of many second sons throughout our family’s history. I dreamt of you, you know? I dreamt of a dragon surrounded by ice, its eyes as dark as yours, waiting to be thawed... Now, when you get to the red keep you need to remember my words, Jaehaerys. Do not trust anyone who isn’t our family or the kingsguard. Do not trust them with your secrets. Do not visit a whorehouse, and beget dragonseed. Do not trust a Lannister, do not trust a Tyrell, do not trust your father’s small council. They may look fair, but I promise you, there is a foulness. It is a place of complacency and intentional lies. Jaime Lannister killed my husband, my brother. But he is the only one with honour. He killed because he was a scared little boy, nothing more. His sister is poison, his father is a coldhearted genius tactician who sent his own man to kill Elia and her children, your brother and sister, so that his daughter would sit upon the throne.” Her voice was severe, hands gripping his wrists tightly. 

“Promise me, Jaehaerys. You will not beget bastards, or take a whore to your bed chambers.”

“I promise grandmother. I have lived my life a bastard, I would not bring another into this world, to be treated with disrespect, nor would I disrespect someone to leave them with child.” He promised, looking into her eyes, the same eyes he’d seen in his reflection every morning of his life. She smiled, before stroking his cheek. 

“You will do my son and good daughter some good. Heal the wounds left by your mother’s ghost.” 

  
  
  


Climbing onto Grey Ghost with his father’s hand pulling him up to sit between the great spines was exhilarating, his blood was pumping. For all that winter was coming, and the creature was as pale as a freezing mist, the heat from sitting astride it was incredible. He gripped one of the spines carefully, his small bag of possessions over his shoulder, and felt the great beast lift into the air. 

The smallfolk gathered to watch their king on the dragon, resplendent in his silver robes. They would make quite the entrance in King’s landing. The flight over blackwater bay was serene, and Jaehaerys relaxed, looking out across the sea to the distant mountains that made for the bays of the crownlands. In an act of showmanship, his father circled the city once, and then twice, before landing on the keep. The smallfolk shouted, cheered and cried at the sight.

Dragons had returned to Westeros.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a lot of fun with this one, a little shorter than the first fic but i didn't want to rush through too much. i think i'll write more in this series though, because DRAGONS!  
> shireen waking the dragons from stone has always been a fascinating concept to me, and what more awesome than her taming the most brutal wild dragon known to westeros?  
> Rhaegar getting grey ghost is equally symbolic, because while this dragon dies in canon, i think having it heal and find acceptance is just as valuable.  
> let me know what you think of it, if the pacing is a little fast that's my bad d00ds


End file.
